My First Love Blackmailed Me Into Marriage

Aitana Nguyen sat still, letting Jaxxon's words sink in. “Pushing boundaries.”

“What’s your point?” she asked, her voice tight with irritation.

“After this, you’re coming with me to meet my mom. It’s a long trip, and I’d rather not have us on the verge of splitting the whole way.”

A chill crept through her chest, the real meaning behind his words settling like ice. “You want to see how much crap I’ll take before I bail on this marriage?”

“Exactly. If you’re miserable and want out, I’d rather it happen before you meet her.”

Her fist clenched, eyes locked on his. “Then consider it over. Right now.”

His expression hardened. “You sure about that?”

“A hundred percent.”

“And you’re not worried about your parents finding out you’ve been talking to other guys?”

She lifted her chin, defiant. “Let them. Worst case, I get kicked out. I’ve survived worse.”

Jaxxon looked down, voice low. “Pick a day, and we’ll file.”

Aitana blinked, taken aback by how fast he agreed. “What about my parents? You’ll just—”

“Once we’re divorced, we’re strangers. Not my business anymore.”

Her heart twisted in a way she didn’t expect. This was exactly what she wanted. So why did hearing him say it rip something loose inside her, something she thought she’d buried?

He stood, all calm control. “Should I walk you out?”

She nodded.

He led her to the elevator at the end of the hall—the one that dropped straight to the parking lot exit, next to the bus stop, saving her a long walk. He pressed the button, and they waited in silence.

When the doors slid open, Aitana stepped inside, a weird mix of relief and sadness knotting in her stomach. She tried for a normal, friendly goodbye, lifting a hand. “Bye.”

Jaxxon kept his finger jammed on the “up” button outside, his intense gaze fixed on her. “So why are we really ending it this time? Don’t tell me it’s still my so-called OCD.”

“What?” She froze.

“Forget it,” he muttered. “Just think about it.”

He let go. The doors closed, swallowing him from view.

Aitana stood there, totally confused. He used to be straightforward. Now he was a puzzle she couldn’t crack.

She barely even remembered why they broke up years ago—probably some dumb reason she blew way out of proportion. She’d claimed she couldn’t stand how neat he was, or something like that. But the confusion faded fast, and she slipped back into her usual calm.

Feelings had always been trivial to her. If her parents hadn’t pushed so hard, she wouldn’t have even dated someone like Cayden Spencer.

Aitana’s priorities were crystal: money first, education second. Relationships didn’t even make the list.

Honestly, what man could ever be as reliable as a bank account?

Especially when she had a walking red flag like Cayden as a prime example.

She stepped out of the hospital, and her phone buzzed. Her mother, Lucia Flores.

“Aitana, did you sort things out with that Spencer boy?” Lucia’s voice dripped with worry.

“Not yet,” Aitana sighed.

“I knew it. He’s got an angle, using that busted leg to hold us hostage. He won’t let go. Did he ask for money?”

“He wasn’t specific, but I’m sure it’ll be a boatload.”

“Maybe I should talk to him, see exactly what he wants. We need this to be over. We can’t let him drag us all down.”

Aitana rubbed her temples. “Mom, you honestly think Dad would pay? He’d flip his lid. And I’m not paying either. He used my identity to start his company, and now the debt is on me. Where am I supposed to pull that kind of cash from?”

Lucia let out a long breath. “The cops keep questioning your father… I’m scared.”

The weight of it all pressed down on Aitana’s shoulders. Lucia was kind, gentle—not built for this chaos—and yet she was the one catching all the fallout.

“We never should’ve introduced you to him,” Lucia said, voice breaking.

“I chose to meet him. It’s not just your bad call—it was mine too.” Aitana didn’t do regrets. “What’s done is done. I’ll ask my advisor if she knows a good lawyer. If not, we’re going to court.”

She was in her second year of a doctoral program at the School of Disease Prevention and Health Management. Her advisor, a top-tier professor, was kind and supportive, though a bit scatterbrained now that she was older.

Aitana spilled the whole mess, and the professor promised to look into it, even giving her a few days off.

Since Cayden’s accident, she’d already taken three days to handle the crisis. Cayden had filed a police report, so they were all tangled in the investigation.

The forensic report labeled his injuries minor, but Aitana’s father, Bodhi Nguyen, could still catch an assault charge and administrative detention.

Right now, the cops were still sorting through conflicting statements. Lucky for them, given Bodhi’s age and the small scale of the incident, he’d been temporarily released—just stuck on call for more questioning.

A few days later, Bodhi called, inviting her home for dinner.

She wasn’t in the mood. “Dad, you and Mom eat without me. I’ve got a meeting with my advisor tomorrow.”

“Alright,” he said, about to hang up when Lucia grabbed the phone, her voice soaked in motherly concern. “Aitana, sweetheart, you remember Auntie Clara from across the street? I ran into her today. They’re moving back—even had a renovation crew with them.”

“Jaxxon’s mom?” Aitana shot up from the sofa, heart lurching.

“Yes! We talked. About six months ago, she had heart surgery—barely made it through. She’s recovering okay, but she still looks fragile.”

Suddenly it clicked. Jaxxon had come to her about marriage because his mom’s health was pressing him hard, leaving him with no easy way out.

But with her own dumpster fire of a life, Aitana couldn’t afford to think about Jaxxon’s.

Better to cut ties fast. The longer Auntie Clara lived next door, the messier the divorce would get.

She shot Jaxxon a text to finalize the paperwork. He replied with his work schedule, highlighting his free windows.

The soonest was tomorrow afternoon.

Aitana typed back, quick: “Tomorrow, 2 PM.”

Jaxxon didn’t respond right away, but she figured that meant he was in.

---

Outside the civil affairs office, the sun was beaming, but Aitana felt nothing but gloom.

First divorce, and of course she was a total newbie.

Who would’ve guessed there was a freaking mandatory cooling-off period?

The clerk told her to come back in thirty days.

Jaxxon looked completely unfazed, not a trace of frustration on his face.

She glanced at him, a weird mix of giving up and questioning everything in her eyes.

“First divorce,” Jaxxon said, tone annoyingly casual.

Her mind drifted, and she couldn’t shake the thought: underneath the cold front, he was softer than he let on.

The truth was, she and Jaxxon hadn’t shared many genuinely close moments. Back when they were young and she’d made the first move, time had blurred those once breathless memories.

At eighteen, physical closeness was more about raw impulse than rational affection.

Now, with age and experience, logic steered the wheel on what intimacy actually meant.

When she sized up a partner these days, a radar chart practically popped into her head, rating every trait.

Jaxxon hit all the marks, except one killer category—love, that ultimate luxury in a marriage.

Did they even have it?

The only honest answer she could give: maybe once, for a blink. Six months, max, before it evaporated into teenage drama.

Back then, whether out of naivety or just guts, she’d been bold about appreciating Jaxxon’s body.

Now, even an accidental brush set her nerves on edge.

After about ten minutes, Jaxxon shut down his laptop, straightening his desk with that obsessive precision—books, reports, files all lined up like soldiers.

“You’ve picked up some solid habits,” she noted.

“Yeah.” He paused, a flicker of surprise crossing his face.

The old Jaxxon had been a total slob. When he lived across from her, his study was a disaster zone—model planes and books thrown everywhere. Pick up a book from the floor, and you’d find a hidden model beneath.

His mom had tried to clean it, but he’d stubbornly refused, sparking epic fights.

Aitana had been in there a few times. It looked like a bomb went off.

His huge desk was buried under a mountain of textbooks and notes, so bad she’d once joked his setup belonged to a mad scientist, not a high school kid.

There wasn’t even space to stand. She’d almost crushed his Hobby King-L39 once.

He’d lunged to rescue it, yelling, “Don’t touch my Hobby King!”

That was the first time she’d learned the model plane’s name.

His trash can overflowed with tissues spilling onto the floor. Aitana couldn’t take it—if it were her place, she’d be out of her mind.

Then one day, as they left, a dictionary slid off his desk and thudded to the floor.

She’d waited for him to pick it up, but he just shut the door.

“You dropped the dictionary,” she’d pointed out.

“I’ll get it later,” he’d said, like it was nothing.

She’d been floored by that level of chill.

But now? He’d changed so much he was barely recognizable.

“Let’s go,” Jaxxon said, making sure every machine was off.

Aitana grabbed her bag and followed him out.

In the hallway, they ran into Arturo Howell.

“Finally emerged! I’ve been waiting so long my legs are numb,” Arturo said with a sly grin.

Jaxxon punched his arm playfully. “Don’t be so dramatic.”

“Ow, ow, ow,” Arturo hammed it up, dodging away with a laugh.

Then he snapped back to serious. “For real though. If it actually helps you fix your lifelong issues, I’ll cover ten shifts—hell, eight of ’em. Whatever.”

“You mean that?” Jaxxon turned to Aitana. “You heard that, right?”

Her cheeks flushed. “Heard what?”

Jaxxon stayed silent, a smirk tugging at his lips.

Arturo jumped in fast. “Whoa, Jaxxon, you can’t just sneak around setting stuff up. Miss Nguyen, don’t say yes on a whim. I’d be working myself to death here.”

Aitana’s blush deepened.

“I’m starving. Let’s head home and eat,” Jaxxon said, smoothly changing the subject.

“Later,” Arturo waved.

Jaxxon waved without looking. Aitana added a polite, “Bye, Dr. Howell.”

In the elevator, Jaxxon hit the button for the first floor instead of the parking garage.

“You taking me home?” she asked, puzzled.

“Gotta eat first.”

“Then I’ll just grab a taxi.”

His face went stern. “I said I’m taking you.”

She wasn’t sure if he meant it or if this was some weird power play.

“I’ll eat, chill for a bit, then drive you home,” he explained.

“Where are you eating?”

He held up the lunchbox. “At my place, obviously.”

Aitana felt a prickle of annoyance—like she was being played.

Remembering the food, she asked, “You still okay with spicy stuff?”

“Mostly.”

“My parents’ cooking is pretty spicy. Hope you can handle it.”

“Should be fine.”

His confidence felt off. Back in high school, they’d hit every spicy food joint in town, and Jaxxon had blown her away with his tolerance. Now, she wasn’t so sure.

They got to his place. Aitana dropped her backpack and carried the lunchbox to the kitchen.

Jaxxon trailed her, leaning against the doorframe, watching as she opened it up.

“Plates are below, microwave’s right there,” he pointed.

Ignoring his directions, she asked, “Got rice and potatoes?”

“Rice, yeah. Potatoes, don’t know.”

She shot him a look. “Seriously? You can’t check the fridge?”

He obligingly opened it, then shrugged. “Can’t tell.”

Aitana nudged him aside, digging through the packed fridge until she fished out two potatoes. “Here.”

“I didn’t do the shopping,” Jaxxon said, resuming his lazy lean against the door.

Her patience frayed. She stopped what she was doing. “So, am I cooking, or are you?”

That was her way of saying: “Help me out, idiot.”

Jaxxon didn’t miss a beat. “You cook, I’ll eat.”

Aitana rolled her eyes skyward, biting back a curse.

He watched her, looking way too entertained. “I’m beat. You’re always doing good deeds, right? So see this one through.”

Just then, before he could add more, a familiar voice chimed in from the doorway. “His grandfather took away Jaxxon’s credit card, left him stranded. I bought his ticket.”

Aitana spun around. Her mother, Lucia Flores, stood there, looking sympathetic.

“What? His card got taken?” Aitana said, caught off guard.

Lucia smiled, that knowing motherly smile. “Jaxxon’s working now, earning his own keep. We can’t fault him for not having piles of cash. Right, Jaxxon?”

He nodded, a small smile playing at his lips. “Yeah, I’ll work hard.”

Lucia beamed. “See? The boy’s responsible.”

She bustled into the kitchen, washing her hands and reaching to help, but Aitana stopped her. “No need, I’ve got this.”

They fell into a rhythm. Aitana focused on prepping the shrimp, and Jaxxon reluctantly planted himself by the sink, sleeves rolled up, washing greens.

Under Lucia’s direction, they worked together surprisingly well. Jaxxon even helped mince the meat, his movements precise.

“Doctor’s precision,” Lucia praised, watching him.

Aitana couldn’t resist a jab. “What, you think surgeons use butcher knives?”

Lucia shot her a stern warning look.